


House Call

by tanks4thememory



Category: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Uprising
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:05:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1350133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanks4thememory/pseuds/tanks4thememory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hacker pays a late-night visit to a formerly scarred security program, only to find that some things simply can't be fixed. And that some fates can't be avoided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Call

**Author's Note:**

> Written for infiniteviking's Tron Fanworks Month. For angst week, in case you couldn't tell.

It was late, but Tron hadn’t offlined yet. He wasn’t sure if he would at all; now that his scars were no longer an issue, his stamina had been restored. He hadn’t realized just how much the constant pain and damage had dragged him down, until they suddenly weren’t there anymore. Users, he couldn’t remember when he’d last felt this good.

Physically, at least. His mood was a different story, and part of the reason why he was still awake. His eyes narrowed at the images on the monitors, his gaze settling on one in particular. A gold-circuited ship sat parked next to Tessler’s. It wasn’t nearly as massive as its red-circuited counterpart, but it didn’t need to be. Its owner didn’t have to demonstrate his control; he already had it.

CLU. CLU was here, in Argon. That meant that the stakes had been upped significantly. As had the danger. Tessler was a brute, plain and simple. Sark, but with less influence. True, he had some skill at manipulation, but when push came to shove, his moves were fairly easy to predict. Pavel was a sadist, and ambitious, but as the showdown in front of the garage had shown, he was also a coward. As unpredictable as Tessler was the opposite, but the moment the odds ceased to be in his favor, he would fold like a faulty structure. Paige was highly competent, and arguably a superior all-around fighter to Tessler himself, but she had several rather glaring blind spots. Whether they were natural, or whether she was being willfully ignorant, Tron couldn’t be sure. She had devoted her life to her cause, and she would hardly have been the first to ignore things that conflicted with what she _wanted_ to see.

Even _Dyson_ could be dealt with, now that Tron could process the program’s name without wanting to run off on his own personal vendetta. There was no doubt in his processor that Dyson would die, and that it would be at his hand. But when he did, it would be an execution by security for his crimes against the system and its inhabitants, not a murder by a program half-crazed with rage and pain. Dyson may have betrayed his functions, but Tron would not. Not now.

CLU though… CLU was different. CLU combined the resourcefulness and unpredictability of a User, with the calculating ability and strength of a program. A dangerous combination on its own, but when combined with the power and access levels granted to him as administrator, he was downright deadly. Factor in his cunning, ruthlessness, seeming lack of anything resembling a conscience, and utter certainty that what he wanted was right, and well… the prospect of going up against him directly almost made defeating the MCP look easy. At least _it_ had been immobile.

That was part of why he hadn’t suggested a more direct approach to Beck. The young program was good, and getting better all the time. But he was no match for CLU. Moreover, Tron knew that CLU would be entirely willing to use Beck to get to him… because he knew it would work. CLU _knew_ Tron, and knew he would never willingly abandon his own.

“You know, you’re going to make your eyes glitch if you keep staring at those monitors like that.”

Tron jumped, whipping around and drawing his disc in one smooth movement, its edge humming to life as he turned to face the intruder to his hidden base. He found himself looking at a program leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, looking entirely casual. He was wearing a gridsuit of dark gray, a helmet that completely concealed his face- as well as disguising his voice to a degree-, and possibly most significantly, solid yellow circuits. Not the deep gold of the ship on the monitor, but a brighter, oddly more cheerful shade. Just as well; if he’d been wearing CLU’s gold, he would have already been derezzed.

As it was, Tron deactivated and replaced his disc, resuming a more normal stance. “Hacker,” he greeted the yellow-circuited program neutrally with a slight nod.

“Monitor,” the hacker replied with equal neutrality, and a similar small nod. “Long time.”

Tron nodded in agreement. “I see your skills are as sharp as ever,” he said. “Not many can creep up on me like that.”

“It’s a hacker thing,” he replied with an offhanded gesture. “We’re very light on our feet. How else would we keep programs like you on your toes?”

Tron frowned a bit, annoyed. “To what do I owe this visit?”, he asked. “I doubt you came here tonight just to see if you could surprise me.”

“Checkup,” the hacker said, pushing away from the doorframe and walking over to join Tron. “After that crazy stunt you and Beck pulled, I figured one was in order. Need to see what damage it might have done.”

Tron’s frown deepened. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “The rectification machine repaired the scars.”

“I can see that,” the hacker said, crossing his arms over his chest again, the gesture less casual and more stubborn this time. “But you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“When, exactly, were you planning on telling your protégé about your _other_ problem?”, he asked. The stony silence he got in response spoke volumes. “So… you were just going to keep him in the dark, until it was too late? Why am I not surprised…?”

“…I didn’t think there would be time enough for it to be an issue,” Tron confessed. He’d been under no illusions that he’d be able to keep his scars at bay forever. The encounter with Cyrus had only hastened the inevitable.

“To be fair,” the hacker said, “you may have had a point. Now, though… now, we need to know. That machine may have put you back together, but who knows what _else_ it did? And since you can’t exactly pop into a recompiler’s clinic to have your code looked at, unfortunately, I’m the best option you’ve got. Plus, I’ve looked at your code before.”

Tron frowned. The hacker had seen his code before; it was how they had discovered his other little _problem_ in the first place. The workarounds the hacker had created for him had done their job up until now, but…

But now, they had to be sure. He reached around and removed his disc, holding it out for the hacker to take. “I’ll be watching you,” he said as the yellow-circuited program took it.

“You’re watching everybody,” the hacker replied sarcastically, indicating the rows of monitors, though he quickly became serious again. “But yeah, can’t say I blame you. I’d watch me too.” After all, he was a hacker, and Tron a security program. Their similar goals and his non-threatening status hadn’t changed that.

He sat down on a nearby chair to work, finally allowing his helmet to derezz. Revealed was a face both nearly identical to and totally different from that of the administrator. Nearly identical because they were both written by the same User, and thus had the same physical template. Both looked like Flynn. And unlike because the hacker’s face lacked the coldness of his code-brother’s. None of CLU’s anger or arrogance was to be found here. As alike as they might look, the difference between their two personalities was like 0 and 1.

This was Clu, version 1.5, an upgraded version of Flynn’s original hacker, after whom the administrator had been named. And most importantly, in Tron’s opinion, _this_ Clu was unfailingly loyal to his User.

For a while, there was silence as Clu looked over Tron’s code, and Tron watched him do it. But though neither said anything, the gradual shift in the hacker’s expression from neutral to grimly serious left Tron with a rising feeling of cold dread deep in his core. Dread for the verdict that he could see coming, and its implications. He might never have had Ram’s gift for statistics, but even he could tell that the odds were thoroughly against him here.

Finally, Clu closed Tron’s disc display, and looked back up at the program himself. “Well,” he said, “I’ve got some good news, and some bad news. The good news is, that you’re physically fine and will be staying that way. The rectifier took care of the damage and the scars just like you thought, so you’re not longer in any danger of derezzing. Well, no more danger than anyone else in your line of functioning anyway.”

Tron nodded. He’d known as much for the most part, but hearing it confirmed was reassuring. Or would have been, if not for the huge ‘but’ he could hear hanging in the air at the end of that bit of explanation. “And the bad news?”, he asked, even though he knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

“The bad news is that the trojan code is still there,” Clu said. “The rectifier didn’t wipe it. I don’t think it could; the code is so intertwined with your own by this point, I don’t think it could tell the difference. Tron,” he said, “I don’t even think Flynn could remove it entirely now. Not without derezzing you. Being healed restored your strength, but… well, a lot like the healing chamber, it’ll only delay the inevitable. I can make you some better workarounds too, but even they’ll only buy you so much time.”

Tron closed his eyes and lowered his head, his usually strong shoulders slumping under the weight of the hacker’s pronouncement. “How long?”, he asked. His voice was quiet. Hollow.

“A few cycles,” Clu said. “Maybe a decacyle at the outside. Then there won’t be anything more anyone can do.”

“There has to be _something_ ,” Tron said, momentary despair shifting to anger and stubborn determination. “We could find Flynn, get him to try something. You know how to find him, don’t you?”

“I could if I had to, yes,” Clu replied reluctantly.

“Then tell me how to find him,” Tron said. “Or take me to him, if you can’t.”

Clu shook his head and sighed. “It won’t do any good, Tron,” he said sadly. “In fact, it would only make things worse.”

 “You don’t know that!”, Tron snapped, circuits flaring. “Flynn might be able to find something you can’t. Might be able to fix it.”

“He can’t,” Clu replied, his voice still uncharacteristically solemn. “He can’t even fix himself.”

“What do you mean?”, Tron asked, suspicious. “You told me he escaped uninjured.”

“Physically, he’s fine,” Clu said. “But otherwise… Tron, man you haven’t seen him since the attack. I have. What happened that night, and what Clu did afterward, it… broke him somehow. He’s not the same man you remember, and he can’t be the User you or the system needs now.” Maybe not ever again.

“Besides, think about it,” Clu said. “Suppose I took you to him, and it turned out he couldn’t do anything. Then you would know where he was and how to find him, without relying on my help. Which would mean that when the Trojan code finally took over, _he_ would know too. And then it’d all be over. There’d be no place anyone could hide, including your friends. Your revolution would be derezzed before it got out of the alpha stage.”

That though sent another bolt of cold dread, mingled with disgust through Tron’s core. “I would never willingly betray Flynn like that,” Tron said. “Especially not to help that _glitch_.”

“Not now,” Clu replied. “But when the Trojan code takes over-“

“Then I won’t let it!”, Torn shouted, interrupting him. “I’ll self-terminate before I let this… this… _thing_ take me over and warp me into some kind of glitching _puppet!_ ”

“No you won’t,” Clu said. “You’re too stubborn for that. You’ll keep clinging to the idea of finding another solution until it’s too late and it’s gotten to the point where the Trojan code won’t let you self-terminate, even if you wanted to. You’re hard coded to fight and never give in,” Clu said, and frowned. “I imagine my not-so-dear brother was counting on that when he designed it.”

“Besides,” he said, “you have a responsibility to finish what you’ve started here, at least as much as you can. You can’t just toss Beck and his friends to the gridbugs and leave them to fend for themselves. Cause as he is now? He won’t last.  Not with my brother around.”

Tron glared. He knew Clu was right, on all counts, and that stung. Still, he felt it necessary to defend Beck. “Beck’s tougher than you think,” Tron said. “He’s learned a great deal, and he’s improving every time see him.”

“I can believe it,” Clu said, with a nod. “I didn’t mean to imply that I thought badly of the kid; you’ve done a good job with him, and he’s got the makings of a good hacker, if he could just learn to keep that helmet on. Smart of you to train him like an infiltrator when it was just the two of you; I doubt there’s a much more hostile system than this one right now, and you couldn’t afford to have him flagged as a high-level threat when the goal was just to stir up trouble and attract attention to your cause.”

“But he can’t be a lone infiltrator anymore,” Clu said. “You wanted an uprising, now you’ve got one, or at least the beginnings of one. Aside from Beck, though, all they are right now are a bunch of angry betas with an over-inflated sense of optimism about their chances, and if you don’t start training Beck- and the rest of them- to fight like Security programs, to fight to _win_ , they’re going to get _slaughtered_. And you know it.”

“I know,” Tron sighed, his shoulders slumping again. He felt suddenly exhausted, in a way that had nothing to do with his physical status. As if he could feel the weight of every millicycle of his over 500 cycle runtime bearing down on him, pushing him towards his inevitable fate. He imagined he could _feel_ the insidious trojan code worming its way deeper into his systems, into his very core.

He turned away from Clu, looking at his unmarred visage reflected dully in one of the few inactive monitors. There was no indication of the future monster that lay behind that now pristine surface render. In a way, it was even worse than the scars.

After a long moment of silence, he spoke again. “Beck is…. uncomfortable with the idea of derezzing another program,” Tron said. That was part of why he’d opted to train him more like an infiltrator; aside from the reasons Clu had mentioned, he’d feared Beck balking at the idea and abandoning the cause entirely if he tried to force him into such a position. He was a security program; Beck was not. The necessity of deresolution in certain cases was hard-coded into him, but such was not the case for Beck, who’d been coded to repair things, rather than break them.

“Good,” Clu said. “Derezzing others isn’t something you want him to get ‘comfortable’ with. He needs to understand and accept the necessity, and be willing to act on it, but getting ‘comfortable’ with deresolution as a solution to your problems is the first step to turning into something like my not-so-dear brother. I mean, look what happened to Cyrus.”

Tron nodded slightly, still not facing Clu. He almost couldn’t. “Cyrus… was my mistake,” Tron said. “Able was right. I should have noticed sooner that something was wrong. I should have _done_ something.”

Clu shook his head, though, and sighed. “By the time it was noticeable, there was nothing you could have done,” he said. “And no one could have predicted the effect the trojan code would have when combined with more standard rectification algorithms.”

“…And Beck?”, Tron asked, unable to voice the entire thought. Would Beck suffer a similar fate to Cyrus?

Cu shook his head though. “The trojan code was made for you specifically,” Clu said, “and you’re coded in a different style than the rest of the Grid. It was only able to react the way it did with Cyrus because he was a security program himself, originally. Flynn must’ve based some of the coding for other parts of the security suite on yours, and it gave the trojan code just enough to work with to really mess him up. Combined with the added factor of the original rectification code, and some additional instability that was probably there all along, it warped his code until he’d gone full malware and turned into some kind of weird pseudo-virus.”

“Beck was never security, though,” Clu said. “Worst that could happen is he could wind up a carrier for a dormant form of the Trojan code. Something to watch, but his codebase isn’t similar enough to activate it. He’s not about to go malware on us.”

Tron nodded, though he found it difficult to be very relieved. Beck would be spared from a fate worse than deresolution, but he would not. ”Why me?”, Tron wondered aloud. “Why would CLU go to all this trouble to get me out of the way?”

“He doesn’t want you out of the way,” Clu said. “He wants _you_. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured out that _you’re_ the reason he’s in Argon at all.”

Tron nodded slowly. “He said as much, the night of the coup,” he said. “I thought it was Flynn he wanted; I still don’t understand what he wants _me_ so badly for, other than some sick desire to turn me into his own personal _subroutine_.”

“He already has Flynn where he wants him,” Clu said. “With the Portal closed, Flynn can hide, but he can’t run, which is what CLU always wanted. He’s a prisoner in his own system, and if he so much as sets foot on the Grid proper, CLU will know and will be on him like gridbugs on damaged code. In his view, Flynn is already his. It’s just a matter of locating him.”

“You, on the other hand,” Clu said, “are independent, stubborn, powerful, and loyal to the Users rather than him, in particular Flynn and Alan-1.  He’s always been jealous of what Flynn had; he’s wanted it for himself for a long time, even before he decided to take it by force. He’s already taken Flynn’s access to his own world, his ISOs, his system, and its programs from him; you and your loyalty are the last big prize.”

“He wants the loyalty you gave Flynn,” Clu said. “And since he knows by now that you won’t give it to him willingly, he plans to take it by force. He doesn’t want to derezz you; dead, you’re no good to him. He wants to _own_ you. He wants you broken and kneeling at his feet, ready to do whatever he asks.”

“And he’s made sure he’ll get it,” Tron finished, hands clenching into fists involuntarily. The thought of bending knee to that code-traitor made him feel ill. And the fact that that fate was now inevitable only made it worse. When he’d told Dyson that he would rather exist as a broken shell of a program facing a slow and painful deresolution, he hadn’t been lying.

 Clu could only nod solemnly. “I’ll do what I can, man,” he said gently. “I might just be an old hacking program, but I’ve got a few tricks that my not-so-dear brother’s never heard of. I might not be able to stop it, but… well, I can at least make sure you have enough time to get Beck and some others properly trained.” And possibly figure out a way to make his not-so-dear brother’s plan blow up in his face, though he wasn’t about to give Tron that kind of hope until he was _sure_.

Tron nodded, sighing again. “Do you think they’ll really be able to win?”, he asked quietly. It was more processing aloud than it was an actual question. He somewhat knew the answer already, he just… wanted to have someone else confirm it, as bizarre as it sounded. Wanted to know that it wasn’t going to all be for nothing.

“I’m no stats program,” Clu replied, ”but… the odds are very much against it. Won’t say it’s impossible, since stranger things have happened before, but… well, it took outside help to bring down the MCP, and somehow I don’t think that my not-so-dear brother is gonna go down any easier. But I definitely believe they can survive, and keep hope and freedom alive while being a major glitch in his runtime.” He stood, resting a hand lightly on Tron’s shoulder. “They just need someone who can show them how.”

Tron said nothing. What could he say? He was already a lost cause. What he was trying to do was utterly glitched, as any sane program would tell him. But then… he always had been draw to hopeless causes, hadn’t he? Like going up against the MCP with only two fellow conscripts at his back. Maybe he could transfer some of that to Beck. He was likely going to need it.

“I’ll start working on some new workarounds for you,” Clu said after a long moment. “You should… probably start working on some new training sims.”

Tron frowned. The phrase ‘and stop brooding about things no one can change’ was implied at the end of that sentence, and while it still grated at his code that he couldn’t _fight_ this, he also knew that Clu was right. His time as himself was limited, and he had none to waste on brooding. After a moment, he nodded, and Clu nodded in return, both of them moving off to their separate tasks.

They had a lot of work to do. Before it was too late.


End file.
